Alone In Your Mind, 7/12 (final version)
Feb. 19th, 2005 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gilascaveTitle: Alone in Your Mind
Previous six chapters are here.
Author: James
Pairing: Beckett/McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: many thanks to Mice for the beta. This continues the story after chapter six, despite the fact chapter six had the words 'the end' written after it. I'd meant this to be a sequel but, really, it's just more of the first story. So the chapters are numbered accordingly. There is still a sequel coming, though.
Summary: Carson, Rodney, and John are left alone in Atlantis for a month. The mind boggles.
Chapter Seven
Dinner was surprisingly normal. What passed for normal in another galaxy for a man whose head had been taken over by an ancient repair schedule and was apparently being accepted into an established relationship with the man he loved and his lover.
They talked about nothing important -- the things Rodney wanted to do in the lab while there was no one around to disrupt his work. The chances that the SGC would fuck up Weir's personnel requests. Whether or not any team John liked had even made it to the playoffs and if someone would think to let him know when they returned to Atlantis.
Skirting around topics that needed to be discussed, but no one seemed pressed to do that just yet. As such, dinner went smoothly and it was somewhat of a surprise when John stood up and took their empty plates away, and Rodney turned to him and said, "So. My place or yours?"
Carson was glad he'd finished eating, as he was fairly certain he would have choked.
"Oh, come on. You didn't think you were sleeping alone tonight?"
How the devil Rodney could be so calm about it, Carson didn't know. "I was trying not to think about it," he confessed.
Rodney's face fell, slightly -- but it was the put-on sort of disappointment, and not sincere. "You don't want to?"
"I do," Carson said, seriously. He watched as Rodney's expression changed to a smile without any hint of smugness that made him look like a boy. "But I think we should -- all of us -- talk, before we--"
"Talk can wait 'til tomorrow," John interrupted. "The only thing anyone has to say right now is whether you want Rodney to yourself tonight, or if we share."
It took Carson several moments to unswallow his tongue and get oxygen back into his lungs. How could they be so cavalier.... Well, then they'd had all day to discuss it, hadn't they? He'd holed himself up with his repair work and thought as little about it as he had been able to manage.
He realised John and Rodney were both watching him. Waiting.
Patiently.
"You've discussed this?" he found himself asking, probably to avoid having to answer the question.
"We didn't have a lot else to do all day," Rodney said, sharply. "What with us in different places waiting for someone to show up."
Carson glanced down at the tabletop. "I'm sorry. I--"
"None of that," John interrupted. "Just answer the question."
And there it was, wasn't it? Carson forced himself to look up at Rodney. "I do very much want to spend the night with you."
There was that smile again, the wide, beaming joy that Carson had fallen in love with. "That wasn't the question, actually," Rodney said. But it was clear it had been well said.
Carson cleared his throat, and had no idea how to say what it was he wanted.
He supposed it would be easier if he *knew*. He'd thought about being with Rodney, before. Thought about it quite a lot, even when he'd known -- believed, rather -- that it wouldn't ever happen.
He hadn't quite thought about John in the same way, beyond noticing the man's obvious attractiveness. He *did* have a nice arse. And he kissed like the devil himself.
And perhaps having him there would keep Carson from losing himself in Rodney.
"I...hell. I don't know."
"We could flip a coin?" John suggested. It didn't sound like he was concerned either way.
Rodney said, "We could all think of a number between one and the square root of negative one."
John and Carson both stared at him. "How is that going to answer the question?" Carson finally asked.
Rodney shrugged. "Whoever's the closest to the right number gets to go first?"
John's hand shot into the air immediately. "Twelve."
Carson just looked from Rodney to John and back again. He segued into a head shake which made Rodney give him a concerned look. "Fine. Both of you. Come on, then."
He stood up and walked away from the table, knowing they'd either follow him, or he'd have some peace for a night.
********
The walk back to his quarters was longer than it had ever been. He could hear John and Rodney behind him, footsteps ringing on the metal floor. None of them said a word and Carson hoped that they were as nervous as he was. It might have made more sense to hope they weren't nervous and that at least one of them would know what they were doing. But Carson didn't want to be the only one who tripped over his own feet trying to get undressed.
Undressed. His brain latched onto the word and spun slowly around. Yes, they'd already done this once. If fumbling at each other in the hallway could be considered having sex. But the notion of doing this deliberately made him feel like he'd never had sex before, at all.
He prayed to god this wouldn't go like his actual first time had. The fact that he and Seamus had survived the encounter at all was due entirely to Seamus' quick reflexes and the shatter-resistance of pyrex. They'd managed to have another go at it, though, and eventually figured out how it was done. Learnt to enjoy it, even, and that gave him hope that this wasn't going to be a bad idea.
"I still think boxers," John said as Carson reached his door. Carson turned and looked at him. "When you sleep, I mean. I can tell what you wear under your uniform."
"I'm still hoping for more of a 'sleep in the nude' outfit," Rodney said. "I find it more comfortable, myself."
And *that* image distracted Carson from whatever he might have said in response -- such as demanding to know how often they'd discussed what he slept in. He opened his door and went inside, and if they followed...they could find out for themselves.
Not surprisingly, they followed. Carson wondered whether to leave the lights low, or turn them up, and settled for half-lit. Adjusting them with a quick thought, he hoped he'd guessed right. Not that he didn't want to see, but -- well, he was nervous and that was all there was to it.
Rodney clapped his hands, once. "Do we want to dive right in, or would anyone prefer a drink, first?"
"Oh, very romantic," Carson told him, rolling his eyes.
"And 'fancy a shag' is more romantic?" Rodney raised an eyebrow.
"I never said it was," Carson objected. "I'm just-- Nevermind. What...what are we doing?"
"Is that a logistics question, or a metaphysical one?" John asked. "I can answer the first one. The second is going to require alcohol."
"Er...logistics, actually," Carson said. "I was hoping to ignore the metaphysical aspects for awhile."
"Excellent!" John looked pleased. "Then I'd like to recommend -- first, we need something other than the bed." He pointed at Carson's bed, which was just big enough to fit two.
Rodney frowned. "Hmm. You're right. Maybe if we grab a couple of mattresses and put them on the floor? Not the best option, but--"
Carson walked over to the bed and pulled out the frame. The catch was hidden and impossible to locate unless you knew it was there -- and had the ATA gene for triggering the mechanism. But the schematic for expanding the bed frame was simple to understand. They'd still need another mattress, but they could steal one from next door easily enough.
He looked up to find John and Rodney staring at him.
"Do they *all* do that?" Rodney asked.
"I think so," Carson said. He didn't really want to call up the details for every bed frame in Atlantis. "Yours and John's do, which is...all that matters, I believe?" He also didn't want to know how closely Murdoc was following the conversation, given that the only schematics that had popped up were their two.
Rodney and John exchanged a look which Carson couldn't read. Then, "So let's go steal some mattresses," John said.
Rodney nodded, then grinned. "Isn't Kavanagh's room just down the hall?"
John made a face. "I am *not* having sex on his mattress."
"But we'll have to put it back before everyone returns from Earth."
"I...OK, a point." John nodded.
"There's dozens of rooms not being used at all," Carson reminded them. Why did he feel like he'd just acquired custody of two small children?
"And Weir said she might be able to find someone else to bring back and leave Kavanagh on Earth," John said.
"Oh, really? I did ask for a ferret," Rodney said. John gave him a look like he thought Rodney wasn't making any sense.
"Mattress," Carson repeated.
"I'll go. You two...well, don't wait for me. But don't spend it all in one place."
Carson double-checked the index in his head to make sure there was no Ancient technology that allowed one to vanish through the floor. Nothing obvious, but several promising entries that he'd have to look into -- possibly before John could get back.
John left, and Carson found Rodney staring at him. "Er...yes?"
"Wow," was all Rodney said.
Carson found himself grinning like a loon. "Aye. I find myself thinking the same thing. Are you--"
"If that sentence ends with 'sure you want to do this', I'm going to strip you down right here and fuck you until you stop asking stupid questions."
Carson blinked. He tried to find his voice. "...sure you want to do this?" he asked, quickly, knowing he was grinning eagerly and not really caring.
"Right," Rodney said, nodding with an air of determination. He walked over, stopped in front of Carson and took hold of Carson's shirt. Carson stood still, not sure if he really meant to proceed with such force -- but willing to allow it. He had other shirts. Not many, but enough he could spare one to Rodney.
But Rodney grabbed it by the hem and yanked upwards -- not tearing the fabric, but making Carson have to raise his arms fast to avoid being strangled. Rodney threw the shirt behind him onto the floor, then put his hands on Carson's trousers.
He half-expected some hesitation -- a last minute query if this were all right. But Rodney didn't even pause. He unzipped the fly and pulled them down, trousers and underwear together. Carson hurriedly stepped out of them, tripping over his boots and the fabric tangled around his feet. Rodney just pushed him down onto the bed, missing the mattress, and yanked his boots and socks off.
Carson didn't try very hard to crawl over onto the mattress half of the bed. He did try to roll over, off of his extremely hard cock so he wouldn't cause himself any damage before Rodney could have a chance at him.
After nearly throwing the last of Carson's clothes across the room, Rodney simply stood at the foot of the bed and looked at him. Carson had to fight the urge to cover himself. He had to fight it again as his door opened and John came in carrying a mattress. He paused just inside the doorway and stared.
"I found a mattress," he said in a casual tone that didn't at all reach his eyes. He was as tense as Rodney -- both of them standing there, still fully dressed, damn them. Staring at him.
John walked over and laid the mattress on the bed, then slipped off his jacket.
"Roll over," Rodney said, in a tone halfway between commanding, and gentle.
"Which direction?" Carson asked, shocking himself at being able to speak at all.
Rodney and John looked at each other, mouthed a few things Carson couldn't make out. John shrugged and Rodney nodded. "Onto your back."
Carson tried to swallow the whimper and he did as he was told. He wasn't sure where to put his legs -- feet on the bed, lay them out flat, go ahead and bring his knees to his chest where he really wanted them to be? As long as they stopped standing there gaping at him, and one of them got over here and did something, he didn't try to decide.
"Oh, yeah." John knelt on the bed beside him. Looking down at him, his expression was full of hunger. John reached out and placed a hand on Carson's chest, lighting running his palm down Carson's side. "Did anyone think to bring some lube?"
"The drawer," Carson said, pointing to the sidetable. He didn't want to explain why he had it. But they didn't ask, and John leaned across him to reach for it. Lying on top of him, and Carson had thought he was as hard as he could get. But John's weight on him, regardless that he was still mostly dressed, made his cock jump. He didn't fight back the groan, and John looked down at him, without moving away.
"Too heavy?" he asked, though Carson was pretty sure he knew exactly why he was moaning.
Carson didn't bother answering. He moved his hips, trying to get his legs up, and he felt Rodney's hands on his legs. Pulling them up, exposing him and pushing his cock not-so-inadvertantly against John. John handed over the lube and shifted just enough to reach Carson's mouth. He kissed him, then, even as Carson felt a finger, cool and slick, touch his arse.
He whimpered into the kiss. He opened his mouth to let John in -- didn't have to do a thing to let Rodney have him. His knees were pushed into John's side, and John's tongue was rubbing his own, pushing his way into Carson's mouth. The same way Rodney's finger was opening him up, moving inside him and making him need desperately to gasp for air.
He grabbed onto John's shirt, not extraordinarily glad he was still clothed -- but none of them seemed ready to stop long enough to fix that. He certainly didn't want to let John go, even though he wanted to feel skin. Feel more than John's mouth and Rodney's finger-- He gasped as suddenly there were two. Stretching him, now, and Carson arched his back, wanting to push himself down onto Rodney's hand.
"Oh, god, yes," John breathed, then began laying kisses all down Carson's neck and collarbone. Light, and quick, and almost not at all like the fierce kiss they'd begun with. It didn't matter, because it was all driving Carson crazy, anyway. When Rodney's fingers disappeared he was able to catch his breath, and his mind cleared just enough he could try to look to see what he was doing.
What he was doing, was removing his clothes. Dropping his shirt and trousers on the floor, then he was there, naked, and kneeling on the bed between Carson's legs. Carson couldn't help but whimper again, pulling his legs up even more, pressing John against his torso to let Rodney at him.
"Oh, *god*." John had turned his head and was watching. Still lying across him, but staring at Rodney. Watching as Rodney moved closer, and Carson could feel the head of his cock at his arsehole. John's breathing was growing faster -- odd that he could hear it more clearly than he could feel his own. Maybe he wasn't breathing at all.
"Oh, god, Rodney...." John was doing all the talking for him, so he didn't need to breathe. Rodney was just sitting there, not entering him. Carson tried to shift downwards, but he couldn't move with John still on top of him. He felt a hand -- not sure whose -- caress his thigh.
"Come on, already," John ordered, and Carson whispered a silent thank you.
Because Rodney did as requested, and pushed himself inside. Fucked him, oh so slowly and Carson was sure he would probably die before Rodney could fuck him properly. John was still talking, saying things that Carson thought might only be inside his head. Maybe John was reading his mind.
Carson moaned as Rodney pulled back out a bit and he thought seriously about killing him. Killing him and getting John to fuck him, if he'd promise to do so and not tease. But then Rodney was moving inside him again, and going farther this time.
"Oh, fuck yes," John said, and Carson realised that John was staring. *Staring* at him being fucked by Rodney.
He nearly came, right there. He had no idea why he didn't because he felt like the only other option was to explode into a thousand pieces. Rodney didn't seem to notice his problem, as he just kept moving god-so-slowly in and out.
Now John was the one whimpering. He reached down into his trousers, his weight falling for a moment fully onto Carson. Carson tried to reach over to help, happy to get a hand on John's cock. It took a bit of doing, given that he could barely think clearly or move with any agility at all. But he found his hand being wrapped around John's cock, and he began to stroke it. This was something he could do even without brain cells working properly.
Rodney was still going slow. In, out, like there was no sex going on at all and the man was just thinking. Carson lifted his head to get a better look, knowing that if there was the slightest bit of distraction on Rodney's face, he was going to make him pay.
But Rodney was staring at where Carson's hand was moving -- Carson slowed his hand down to match the torturous rhythm Rodney had set. Back and forth as Rodney thrust in and pulled out, until Carson couldn't be sure which of them was following the other. Ironic, then, that he would be torturing *himself.*
"Please, dammit," John begged, and he put his hand over Carson's. He began jerking himself off with a much faster stroke -- which Rodney did not follow. But it didn't seem to matter, because Carson was about to come, right along with John who was jerking himself off with Carson's hand. John was still staring at Rodney fucking him, and dear god how could Rodney just be there as though none of this was happening?
Carson gasped, and couldn't control the long, keening moan that crawled out of his throat. He was coming, and he didn't try to fight it, didn't try to muffle the noises like he'd once had to do. His body tightened, and if John hadn't been atop him he felt he might have flung himself from the bed.
He heard someone whispering; it sounded like a deep appreciation of what he was doing. That was fine, he was happy to do it. His every cell was vanishing into the ether and he was fairly certain from the sound of it that John's were as well. His hand was still gripped around John's cock, and he heard a sharp, loud shout.
"Oh, fuck," Rodney said, and finally -- finally, god! -- he began fucking Carson as hard as he ought.
Carson's orgasm was winding down, but he didn't try to move. He let his body collapse and just be there for Rodney to fuck as he pleased. His cock twitched at the thought as John rolled away. Not far -- he stood up and lost the rest of his clothing. Then he leaned over and gave Rodney a long kiss. Touched him, pinching a nipple and running his hand down Rodney's chest, to his stomach. Held him as Rodney's eyes began to roll up, and Carson could only lie there and watch.
Rodney made not a single noise as he came, though it might have been the way John's mouth never moved from his. Either way, there was a moment in which none of them were moving and the room was silent. Carson held himself still until the moment Rodney began to fall sideways. He pulled his leg out of the way and helped John guide Rodney down onto the bed. John followed, and the resulting pile made Carson wonder why he'd bothered expanding the bed at all.
There were kisses exchanged, and hands wandering and petting. But otherwise no one moved and before he knew it, Carson was falling asleep in the tangle.
*******
Previous six chapters are here.
Author: James
Pairing: Beckett/McKay/Sheppard
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: not mine, no profit made
Notes: many thanks to Mice for the beta. This continues the story after chapter six, despite the fact chapter six had the words 'the end' written after it. I'd meant this to be a sequel but, really, it's just more of the first story. So the chapters are numbered accordingly. There is still a sequel coming, though.
Summary: Carson, Rodney, and John are left alone in Atlantis for a month. The mind boggles.
Chapter Seven
Dinner was surprisingly normal. What passed for normal in another galaxy for a man whose head had been taken over by an ancient repair schedule and was apparently being accepted into an established relationship with the man he loved and his lover.
They talked about nothing important -- the things Rodney wanted to do in the lab while there was no one around to disrupt his work. The chances that the SGC would fuck up Weir's personnel requests. Whether or not any team John liked had even made it to the playoffs and if someone would think to let him know when they returned to Atlantis.
Skirting around topics that needed to be discussed, but no one seemed pressed to do that just yet. As such, dinner went smoothly and it was somewhat of a surprise when John stood up and took their empty plates away, and Rodney turned to him and said, "So. My place or yours?"
Carson was glad he'd finished eating, as he was fairly certain he would have choked.
"Oh, come on. You didn't think you were sleeping alone tonight?"
How the devil Rodney could be so calm about it, Carson didn't know. "I was trying not to think about it," he confessed.
Rodney's face fell, slightly -- but it was the put-on sort of disappointment, and not sincere. "You don't want to?"
"I do," Carson said, seriously. He watched as Rodney's expression changed to a smile without any hint of smugness that made him look like a boy. "But I think we should -- all of us -- talk, before we--"
"Talk can wait 'til tomorrow," John interrupted. "The only thing anyone has to say right now is whether you want Rodney to yourself tonight, or if we share."
It took Carson several moments to unswallow his tongue and get oxygen back into his lungs. How could they be so cavalier.... Well, then they'd had all day to discuss it, hadn't they? He'd holed himself up with his repair work and thought as little about it as he had been able to manage.
He realised John and Rodney were both watching him. Waiting.
Patiently.
"You've discussed this?" he found himself asking, probably to avoid having to answer the question.
"We didn't have a lot else to do all day," Rodney said, sharply. "What with us in different places waiting for someone to show up."
Carson glanced down at the tabletop. "I'm sorry. I--"
"None of that," John interrupted. "Just answer the question."
And there it was, wasn't it? Carson forced himself to look up at Rodney. "I do very much want to spend the night with you."
There was that smile again, the wide, beaming joy that Carson had fallen in love with. "That wasn't the question, actually," Rodney said. But it was clear it had been well said.
Carson cleared his throat, and had no idea how to say what it was he wanted.
He supposed it would be easier if he *knew*. He'd thought about being with Rodney, before. Thought about it quite a lot, even when he'd known -- believed, rather -- that it wouldn't ever happen.
He hadn't quite thought about John in the same way, beyond noticing the man's obvious attractiveness. He *did* have a nice arse. And he kissed like the devil himself.
And perhaps having him there would keep Carson from losing himself in Rodney.
"I...hell. I don't know."
"We could flip a coin?" John suggested. It didn't sound like he was concerned either way.
Rodney said, "We could all think of a number between one and the square root of negative one."
John and Carson both stared at him. "How is that going to answer the question?" Carson finally asked.
Rodney shrugged. "Whoever's the closest to the right number gets to go first?"
John's hand shot into the air immediately. "Twelve."
Carson just looked from Rodney to John and back again. He segued into a head shake which made Rodney give him a concerned look. "Fine. Both of you. Come on, then."
He stood up and walked away from the table, knowing they'd either follow him, or he'd have some peace for a night.
********
The walk back to his quarters was longer than it had ever been. He could hear John and Rodney behind him, footsteps ringing on the metal floor. None of them said a word and Carson hoped that they were as nervous as he was. It might have made more sense to hope they weren't nervous and that at least one of them would know what they were doing. But Carson didn't want to be the only one who tripped over his own feet trying to get undressed.
Undressed. His brain latched onto the word and spun slowly around. Yes, they'd already done this once. If fumbling at each other in the hallway could be considered having sex. But the notion of doing this deliberately made him feel like he'd never had sex before, at all.
He prayed to god this wouldn't go like his actual first time had. The fact that he and Seamus had survived the encounter at all was due entirely to Seamus' quick reflexes and the shatter-resistance of pyrex. They'd managed to have another go at it, though, and eventually figured out how it was done. Learnt to enjoy it, even, and that gave him hope that this wasn't going to be a bad idea.
"I still think boxers," John said as Carson reached his door. Carson turned and looked at him. "When you sleep, I mean. I can tell what you wear under your uniform."
"I'm still hoping for more of a 'sleep in the nude' outfit," Rodney said. "I find it more comfortable, myself."
And *that* image distracted Carson from whatever he might have said in response -- such as demanding to know how often they'd discussed what he slept in. He opened his door and went inside, and if they followed...they could find out for themselves.
Not surprisingly, they followed. Carson wondered whether to leave the lights low, or turn them up, and settled for half-lit. Adjusting them with a quick thought, he hoped he'd guessed right. Not that he didn't want to see, but -- well, he was nervous and that was all there was to it.
Rodney clapped his hands, once. "Do we want to dive right in, or would anyone prefer a drink, first?"
"Oh, very romantic," Carson told him, rolling his eyes.
"And 'fancy a shag' is more romantic?" Rodney raised an eyebrow.
"I never said it was," Carson objected. "I'm just-- Nevermind. What...what are we doing?"
"Is that a logistics question, or a metaphysical one?" John asked. "I can answer the first one. The second is going to require alcohol."
"Er...logistics, actually," Carson said. "I was hoping to ignore the metaphysical aspects for awhile."
"Excellent!" John looked pleased. "Then I'd like to recommend -- first, we need something other than the bed." He pointed at Carson's bed, which was just big enough to fit two.
Rodney frowned. "Hmm. You're right. Maybe if we grab a couple of mattresses and put them on the floor? Not the best option, but--"
Carson walked over to the bed and pulled out the frame. The catch was hidden and impossible to locate unless you knew it was there -- and had the ATA gene for triggering the mechanism. But the schematic for expanding the bed frame was simple to understand. They'd still need another mattress, but they could steal one from next door easily enough.
He looked up to find John and Rodney staring at him.
"Do they *all* do that?" Rodney asked.
"I think so," Carson said. He didn't really want to call up the details for every bed frame in Atlantis. "Yours and John's do, which is...all that matters, I believe?" He also didn't want to know how closely Murdoc was following the conversation, given that the only schematics that had popped up were their two.
Rodney and John exchanged a look which Carson couldn't read. Then, "So let's go steal some mattresses," John said.
Rodney nodded, then grinned. "Isn't Kavanagh's room just down the hall?"
John made a face. "I am *not* having sex on his mattress."
"But we'll have to put it back before everyone returns from Earth."
"I...OK, a point." John nodded.
"There's dozens of rooms not being used at all," Carson reminded them. Why did he feel like he'd just acquired custody of two small children?
"And Weir said she might be able to find someone else to bring back and leave Kavanagh on Earth," John said.
"Oh, really? I did ask for a ferret," Rodney said. John gave him a look like he thought Rodney wasn't making any sense.
"Mattress," Carson repeated.
"I'll go. You two...well, don't wait for me. But don't spend it all in one place."
Carson double-checked the index in his head to make sure there was no Ancient technology that allowed one to vanish through the floor. Nothing obvious, but several promising entries that he'd have to look into -- possibly before John could get back.
John left, and Carson found Rodney staring at him. "Er...yes?"
"Wow," was all Rodney said.
Carson found himself grinning like a loon. "Aye. I find myself thinking the same thing. Are you--"
"If that sentence ends with 'sure you want to do this', I'm going to strip you down right here and fuck you until you stop asking stupid questions."
Carson blinked. He tried to find his voice. "...sure you want to do this?" he asked, quickly, knowing he was grinning eagerly and not really caring.
"Right," Rodney said, nodding with an air of determination. He walked over, stopped in front of Carson and took hold of Carson's shirt. Carson stood still, not sure if he really meant to proceed with such force -- but willing to allow it. He had other shirts. Not many, but enough he could spare one to Rodney.
But Rodney grabbed it by the hem and yanked upwards -- not tearing the fabric, but making Carson have to raise his arms fast to avoid being strangled. Rodney threw the shirt behind him onto the floor, then put his hands on Carson's trousers.
He half-expected some hesitation -- a last minute query if this were all right. But Rodney didn't even pause. He unzipped the fly and pulled them down, trousers and underwear together. Carson hurriedly stepped out of them, tripping over his boots and the fabric tangled around his feet. Rodney just pushed him down onto the bed, missing the mattress, and yanked his boots and socks off.
Carson didn't try very hard to crawl over onto the mattress half of the bed. He did try to roll over, off of his extremely hard cock so he wouldn't cause himself any damage before Rodney could have a chance at him.
After nearly throwing the last of Carson's clothes across the room, Rodney simply stood at the foot of the bed and looked at him. Carson had to fight the urge to cover himself. He had to fight it again as his door opened and John came in carrying a mattress. He paused just inside the doorway and stared.
"I found a mattress," he said in a casual tone that didn't at all reach his eyes. He was as tense as Rodney -- both of them standing there, still fully dressed, damn them. Staring at him.
John walked over and laid the mattress on the bed, then slipped off his jacket.
"Roll over," Rodney said, in a tone halfway between commanding, and gentle.
"Which direction?" Carson asked, shocking himself at being able to speak at all.
Rodney and John looked at each other, mouthed a few things Carson couldn't make out. John shrugged and Rodney nodded. "Onto your back."
Carson tried to swallow the whimper and he did as he was told. He wasn't sure where to put his legs -- feet on the bed, lay them out flat, go ahead and bring his knees to his chest where he really wanted them to be? As long as they stopped standing there gaping at him, and one of them got over here and did something, he didn't try to decide.
"Oh, yeah." John knelt on the bed beside him. Looking down at him, his expression was full of hunger. John reached out and placed a hand on Carson's chest, lighting running his palm down Carson's side. "Did anyone think to bring some lube?"
"The drawer," Carson said, pointing to the sidetable. He didn't want to explain why he had it. But they didn't ask, and John leaned across him to reach for it. Lying on top of him, and Carson had thought he was as hard as he could get. But John's weight on him, regardless that he was still mostly dressed, made his cock jump. He didn't fight back the groan, and John looked down at him, without moving away.
"Too heavy?" he asked, though Carson was pretty sure he knew exactly why he was moaning.
Carson didn't bother answering. He moved his hips, trying to get his legs up, and he felt Rodney's hands on his legs. Pulling them up, exposing him and pushing his cock not-so-inadvertantly against John. John handed over the lube and shifted just enough to reach Carson's mouth. He kissed him, then, even as Carson felt a finger, cool and slick, touch his arse.
He whimpered into the kiss. He opened his mouth to let John in -- didn't have to do a thing to let Rodney have him. His knees were pushed into John's side, and John's tongue was rubbing his own, pushing his way into Carson's mouth. The same way Rodney's finger was opening him up, moving inside him and making him need desperately to gasp for air.
He grabbed onto John's shirt, not extraordinarily glad he was still clothed -- but none of them seemed ready to stop long enough to fix that. He certainly didn't want to let John go, even though he wanted to feel skin. Feel more than John's mouth and Rodney's finger-- He gasped as suddenly there were two. Stretching him, now, and Carson arched his back, wanting to push himself down onto Rodney's hand.
"Oh, god, yes," John breathed, then began laying kisses all down Carson's neck and collarbone. Light, and quick, and almost not at all like the fierce kiss they'd begun with. It didn't matter, because it was all driving Carson crazy, anyway. When Rodney's fingers disappeared he was able to catch his breath, and his mind cleared just enough he could try to look to see what he was doing.
What he was doing, was removing his clothes. Dropping his shirt and trousers on the floor, then he was there, naked, and kneeling on the bed between Carson's legs. Carson couldn't help but whimper again, pulling his legs up even more, pressing John against his torso to let Rodney at him.
"Oh, *god*." John had turned his head and was watching. Still lying across him, but staring at Rodney. Watching as Rodney moved closer, and Carson could feel the head of his cock at his arsehole. John's breathing was growing faster -- odd that he could hear it more clearly than he could feel his own. Maybe he wasn't breathing at all.
"Oh, god, Rodney...." John was doing all the talking for him, so he didn't need to breathe. Rodney was just sitting there, not entering him. Carson tried to shift downwards, but he couldn't move with John still on top of him. He felt a hand -- not sure whose -- caress his thigh.
"Come on, already," John ordered, and Carson whispered a silent thank you.
Because Rodney did as requested, and pushed himself inside. Fucked him, oh so slowly and Carson was sure he would probably die before Rodney could fuck him properly. John was still talking, saying things that Carson thought might only be inside his head. Maybe John was reading his mind.
Carson moaned as Rodney pulled back out a bit and he thought seriously about killing him. Killing him and getting John to fuck him, if he'd promise to do so and not tease. But then Rodney was moving inside him again, and going farther this time.
"Oh, fuck yes," John said, and Carson realised that John was staring. *Staring* at him being fucked by Rodney.
He nearly came, right there. He had no idea why he didn't because he felt like the only other option was to explode into a thousand pieces. Rodney didn't seem to notice his problem, as he just kept moving god-so-slowly in and out.
Now John was the one whimpering. He reached down into his trousers, his weight falling for a moment fully onto Carson. Carson tried to reach over to help, happy to get a hand on John's cock. It took a bit of doing, given that he could barely think clearly or move with any agility at all. But he found his hand being wrapped around John's cock, and he began to stroke it. This was something he could do even without brain cells working properly.
Rodney was still going slow. In, out, like there was no sex going on at all and the man was just thinking. Carson lifted his head to get a better look, knowing that if there was the slightest bit of distraction on Rodney's face, he was going to make him pay.
But Rodney was staring at where Carson's hand was moving -- Carson slowed his hand down to match the torturous rhythm Rodney had set. Back and forth as Rodney thrust in and pulled out, until Carson couldn't be sure which of them was following the other. Ironic, then, that he would be torturing *himself.*
"Please, dammit," John begged, and he put his hand over Carson's. He began jerking himself off with a much faster stroke -- which Rodney did not follow. But it didn't seem to matter, because Carson was about to come, right along with John who was jerking himself off with Carson's hand. John was still staring at Rodney fucking him, and dear god how could Rodney just be there as though none of this was happening?
Carson gasped, and couldn't control the long, keening moan that crawled out of his throat. He was coming, and he didn't try to fight it, didn't try to muffle the noises like he'd once had to do. His body tightened, and if John hadn't been atop him he felt he might have flung himself from the bed.
He heard someone whispering; it sounded like a deep appreciation of what he was doing. That was fine, he was happy to do it. His every cell was vanishing into the ether and he was fairly certain from the sound of it that John's were as well. His hand was still gripped around John's cock, and he heard a sharp, loud shout.
"Oh, fuck," Rodney said, and finally -- finally, god! -- he began fucking Carson as hard as he ought.
Carson's orgasm was winding down, but he didn't try to move. He let his body collapse and just be there for Rodney to fuck as he pleased. His cock twitched at the thought as John rolled away. Not far -- he stood up and lost the rest of his clothing. Then he leaned over and gave Rodney a long kiss. Touched him, pinching a nipple and running his hand down Rodney's chest, to his stomach. Held him as Rodney's eyes began to roll up, and Carson could only lie there and watch.
Rodney made not a single noise as he came, though it might have been the way John's mouth never moved from his. Either way, there was a moment in which none of them were moving and the room was silent. Carson held himself still until the moment Rodney began to fall sideways. He pulled his leg out of the way and helped John guide Rodney down onto the bed. John followed, and the resulting pile made Carson wonder why he'd bothered expanding the bed at all.
There were kisses exchanged, and hands wandering and petting. But otherwise no one moved and before he knew it, Carson was falling asleep in the tangle.
*******